Saturday, 24 October 2015

sentimental journey

Once Protestantism took hold in large swathes of northern Europe, particularly in England, the pilgrimage undertaken to exotic lands fell out of fashion, people of means needed to articulate another rite of passage that would fulfil this lost outlet. Almost immediately, the notion of the Grand Tour was invented as an authoritative substitute, since one could claim instant superiority in matters of taste and worldliness over one’s neighbours for having seen the masterpieces of the continent first-hand and having even brought back some art as souvenirs.

Though such deportment would have been non- permissible beforehand on the Camino de Santiago, such gap year trips were also seen as not only edifying but also the chance to discretely work whatever hot-blooded passions (associated already with Mediterranean climes) that might need to be exorcised to avoid any scenes at home. The odd and singular aspect of these sojourns was that the itinerary was squarely planted in Catholic lands, which were considered the subversive enemy for the reformed countries of the north—almost as if the most popular tourist-destination for Americans during the Cold War was Stalingrad, immersed in the culture of an ideological nemesis. Many Britons and others felt it was unpatriotic to indulge the sights of the south, but a domestic tourism industry was not developed until the French Revolution made travel impossible, and the Low Countries as well as Scotland and the fjords of Norway were discovered by people who had not previous ventured outside the capitals. After matters had settled down a bit and travel to Southern Europe was again possible, people complained of the changed character of tourism—there were just too many of them and one could hardly be enraptured by art and architecture in a pulsing, pushing crowd of sight-seers. The elite among the holiday-makers began turning away from these cultural enlightening itineraries in response and began to focus on natural destinations, like the beaches and mountains, leaving the cities and museums for the masses.

Friday, 23 October 2015

king-biscuit flour-hour

One of my all-time favourite blogs, the always inspiring Nag on the Lake, directs us to an interesting chapter in American history told through the flour-sack dress.
What I found really striking and unexpected was how the manufacturers wanted to extend a sense of dignity to their resourceful models and included instructions for removing the inked on company logos and provisioning information, so one was not an unwilling, walking advertisement. Further, anticipating this need for thrift to remain for the foreseeable future, having spanned from the time of the Great Depression through the rationing of World War II, the manufacturers introduced an array of fabric patterns (at considerable expense, I am sure) that were really dazzling and on-par with the most spectacular store-bought textiles and clothing. That’s pretty keen and it would really be something if modern businesses could be as considerate for their loyal customer-base and if the modern consumer was as driven to make-do.

being there or eaches teaches

In celebration of ninth year of publication, the Maria Popova of the gorgeous and insightful Brain Pickings is marking the occasion by reflecting on nine important lessons learned distilled in her thousands of hours of reading, writing, synthesizing and sharing.

All of these teachings are important touchstones of the fulfilled and examined life but I think number six, presence is far more rewarding an art than productivity, is especially resonant as it’s become acceptably fashionable to talk of growth and becoming as some abstraction that’s somehow out-of-time and contained, couched in delay, deferment and distraction that’s producing something for the sake of production. This message is punctuated with the memorable quotation from essayist Annie Dillard, “how we spend our days is, of course, how spend our lives.”

Thursday, 22 October 2015

5x5

pachyderm: Icelandic cliff-face looks like an elephant

hello – you have found my shop of rare and wonderful things: Super Mario style map of Twin Peaks

glyph-list: latest issue of emojis to supplement your vocabulary, via Kottke’s quicklinks 

det var helt texas: in Norwegian vernacular, the state’s name signifies being unbalanced

hot or not: Canadian prime-ministers ranked